


Don't (Leave)

by SolitaryScaup



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, These boys are in love, and doesn't want ian to leave, and it Fucking works, but they love each other so its okay, fuck terry for ruining everything, fuck the army, in this house we fucking communicate our feelings, its really short, mickey uses his words for once, no more unspoken truths, s3e12 survival of the fittest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolitaryScaup/pseuds/SolitaryScaup
Summary: Acknowledging that Mickey's failure to say how he felt in this episode was vital to his character, I said fuck it and wrote this because I want them to be happy all the time and I can do what I want.





	Don't (Leave)

**Author's Note:**

> Acknowledging that Mickey's failure to say how he felt in this episode was vital to his character, I said fuck it and wrote this because I want them to be happy all the time and I can do what I want.

_Really? That’s all you’re gonna say to him?_

_You’re a fucking pussy._

 

Mickey could still hear his sister’s words sharp as a knife playing over and over again in his head. He knew she was right. He fucking hated it. Hated himself for letting Ian go like that, not even trying to make him stay. 

Well, he was done sitting around and moping like some loser. He checked the time. 

11:49. 

Weird. He could’ve sworn he’d only been lying in bed crying for three hours at most. He got up and blindly felt around his room for a jacket. It was nearly pitch black, the only light entering coming from the flickering street lamps. When he finally found one, he put it on hoping it wasn’t too dirty and left his room. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a twelve-pack of beer and an unopened carton of cigarettes before leaving. It was gonna be a long night. 

\-----

The walk to the Gallagher house was a short one, but tonight it felt like it took hours. Mickey even started to run when he felt like he might get there too late. This, of course, only resulted in an out-of-breath Mickey who arrived at 11:53. He laughed at himself once he realized how stupid he felt, chasing after Ian like some bitch. He looked up at the strangely quiet house and opened a beer. As he was searching for a good place to sit, he sipped his beer, deciding he wanted to be somewhat sober when he saw Ian. 

Scanning the front yard, he realized it was probably best to just stay off of the property and sit outside the gate. He set his beer down and then himself, exhaling loudly as he was slightly relieved of both physical and emotional pressure. 

He sat there for about a half hour before he saw someone in the distance walking his way. He couldn’t quite see who it was, but it looked like a kid. He squinted as the figure got closer and saw that it was Ian’s brother, Carl. He had his coat on and an electric razor in his hand. When he saw Mickey in front of his house, he looked suspicious and only slightly worried.

“Mickey? What are you doing here?” 

“Waiting for your dumbass brother,” he replied, sipping his beer.

“Which one?”

“Red.”

“Oh. You gonna beat him up?” Carl asked casually.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Carl nodded and continued standing there awkwardly, the silence between them growing. Mickey cleared his throat.

“What were you doing out there?” he asked, his eyes obviously hinting at the electric razor. 

“Shaving my dad’s head so he doesn’t die,” Carl answered. Mickey raised an eyebrow and nodded, deciding he didn’t need to know any more. 

“You should probably go sleep or something before your sister loses her shit,” Mickey told him, his voice disinterested but his slight concern genuine. Carl nodded and began walking towards the house. When he got to the porch, he turned around.

“Mickey?” 

“Yeah?” he answered, turning his head to face Carl.

“Don’t hurt him too bad.”

Mickey looked at the ground for a moment and then nodded. 

“I won’t.”

\-----

Mickey sat there for six hours, only ever getting up to take a piss but always keeping his eye on the front door. He saw stray cats almost kill each other at least three times, seven drunks stumbling in the street, heard gunshots not too far off on numerous occasions, and thought he almost froze to death. The cigarettes were gone within the first two hours and he had thrown the rest of the beer out when he caught himself chugging it during a particularly bad moment of weakness. His ass was numb and he would make Ian pay for it later. He didn’t know what time it was but the sun was nearly up and the street lamps shut off about an hour ago, so Ian had to be coming soon. 

About fifteen minutes later, he heard the door open quietly. He was nearly asleep but the sound shot waves of adrenaline through his body and he jumped up immediately. He turned around in an instant and was met with a confused Ian.

“Mickey?” Ian said, his voice full of shock. Mickey threw open the gate and ran to him, tripping on the steps. Ian dropped his bag and caught Mickey before he fell on his face, then helped him up. Mickey’s eyes were red and he struggled to speak clearly. He looked into Ian’s eyes and moved his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was just like before and he knew Ian would leave him. He felt hopeless, worthless, and like a failure. He had failed to keep the one person who made his life worth living. 

As those thoughts pounded themselves into Mickey’s brain, Ian put his hands on his shoulders and looked into Mickey’s now tear-filled eyes, searching for what it was that he was trying to say. Ian’s touch dragged Mickey out of his own personal hell and brought him back to where he was--standing in front of the person he loved. His mind cleared and he moved his mouth to speak one more time.

 

“Don’t leave.”

 

The words barely made it out in a whisper. Mickey went silent after, but his eyes continued pleading the same message. Ian blinked rapidly and searched every inch of Mickey’s face, unsure of what he was looking for. They stared at each other with two wildly different expressions but the same intensity and said nothing. Then Ian spoke.

“How long have you been out here?”

Mickey snapped out of his daze and slowly returned to his normal self.

“Too fuckin’ long,” he said, his voice still soft. “Froze my fuckin’ ass off waiting for you.”

Ian smiled faintly, looking down.

“You mean it?” he asked, unsure. 

“You think I sat outside waiting like some bitch for no reason?” Mickey paused. “‘Course I fucking mean it.” After a moment’s hesitation, he picked up Ian’s bag that was on the ground and walked into the house. Ian stood confused for a few seconds, then followed him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Unpacking your shit. You’re not going anywhere,” Mickey said as he walked up the stairs. He got to the room and began opening the drawers and shoving clothes back inside, not caring to check whether or not they went where they belonged. Ian stood in the doorway smirking. When Mickey finished, he threw the bag on the ground and looked at Ian. 

“What?” he asked when he saw him staring. Ian said nothing and began walking towards him, his eyes locked on Mickey’s with a clear purpose. He grabbed the side of Mickey’s face and kissed him once, softly. 

“That’s all you had to say.”


End file.
